Eternal's Fallacy
by Rhetorical irony
Summary: Some things exist the way they are for a reason. Others exist solely to defy logic. Just as beginnings and middles always engage an end, love is not infallible. And as the two companions will have to learn, eternity may just be another fallacy after all.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Okay, I know I have disappeared for very long, sorry about that . But I've been busy with... stuff :P But it's holidays over here now, so I expect to be able to update faster :D For the next three weeks ^^**

**As for my other story, I will update it! I just got carried away with this one because I had inspiration one fine day and I decided to write that down. So here we are :D**

**Oh yes, and before I forget, enjoy! Reviews are very much appreciated though, especially if you can help me with my grammar. My teacher thinks that my proficiency in grammar leaves much to be desired. .**

Prologue

It was dark, very dark, with only the barest glimmer of moonlight trickling through the glass windows set high above, almost touching the vaulted ceiling, pooling onto the cold marble grounds of the long, narrow corridor which seemed to stretch endlessly, until it was swallowed by darkness beyond. No one knew where this corridor led to, but it was easy enough to tell where it started from. A thick, heavy door barred the beginnings of this long corridor. It was locked, always kept locked, and there was only two ways to open it. Of course, a key would be handy here, but then there was always something else which could work to.

And it was this door which was creaking open now on rusty hinges, ever so slowly, the sound echoing through the lonely corridor. An elderly dragon walked through the doorway. A blue dragon, wearing a robe about his shoulders. Around his neck was a lantern, glimmering with a cold bluish light, which was already fading away. It looked like a normal lantern, like one of those which younglings and cubs used to play with, but its bearer knew, it was anything but normal. Normal lanterns do not open thickset doors by simply shining, without the need for anyone to light it.

But that was beside the point. If there had been anyone present to witness the slow but determined plodding of those world-weary paws, they would have been surprised at the fire shining in those eyes, the dignified aura which cloaked him like a second skin. The elderly dragon was tired; indeed, at his age, any dragon would tire easily. But he was determined not to let this minor setback keep him from his final duty. And then, perhaps he would finally be able to get some well-deserved rest.

The corridor ran straight, never once wavering from its course. And then abruptly, it ended, branching horizontally left and right. But he was calm, even as the lantern around his neck shone again, and his paws began to move to the left. There was nothing to fear, he knew, if he was meant to come this way, if he had the authority to. If he had the lantern's light to guide him. Any fool who chanced upon this sacred place without a guide would spend the rest of his days wondering through an endless maze of dark corridors, never to see the daylight again.

The corridor he picked was still floored by marble tiling, but it was not as tall as the previous one, nor were there any windows. Still, the old dragon walked, never once doubting the purpose of his coming, or the lantern's ability to lead him through the darkness to safety. At least he was not alone.

At his age, blind faith in a higher purpose which he could not begin to fathom was the only thing he had to keep him going.

* * *

><p>Split.<p>

Turn left.

Split.

Turn left.

As his journey progressed, the darkness cloaking the air around him had begun to feel heavier, tighter, more choking, blanketing his senses. It was the most… complete darkness he had ever seen before, for lack of a better word. But through all this, the lantern's flame never once wavered, the bluish light burning away the darkness in a circle around him, three tail lengths in any foreseeable direction. Try hard as he might, the elder could only see where the lantern's light hit, no more, no less. But then, what could he have expected? He may be no Mage, but he could sure tell that the darkness around him was magically induced, no doubt another failsafe put in place to keep intruders out.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the elderly dragon stopped. His paws felt as though they were going to fall off, and every joint in his old body ached, burning as though with a vengeance. But he was finally here. No more endless walking along corridors which were making him claustrophobic, no more feeling as though he had gone blind. In front of him was a simple door, not unlike the one he had first come through. The lantern around his neck was warm, not in an altogether uncomfortable way, but it was certainly unnerving, considering how long it had burnt. Just what sort of magic sustained this abomination of nature?

The door swung open on creaking hinges to admit the elderly dragon. He had reached his destination at long last. As he allowed his eyes to scan around the room, he realised that nothing much had changed from when he had been here last, so long ago. The room was sparsely furnished, with naught but a candle on a circular oak table to light the windowless room. The old dragon could not be sure, but he would have sworn that the candle had burnt at this very same level when he last came across it. What sort of magic was this? Was it the same sort which kept the lantern around his neck burning without ever going out?

Next to the candle lay a black, leather-bound book. The elderly dragon approached it cautiously. He still remembered how his late mentor had led him to this very book once so long ago, to touch the leather gingerly, to read what had been written inside, to feel the quill in his paws and to familiarise himself with the task he would eventually have to do. _Always treat magical artefacts with due respect, _his predecessor had told him sternly.

And yet, the time for change had come. The old dragon felt a fleeting sense of pity. His successor would have to start out alone, with no one to guide him. He hoped that he would be able to manage. Regrettable though it was, that was what his dream last night had commanded. Some see dreams as the stuff of fantasies, and following them, a foolish course of action. But he knew better. And he knew what he would have to do.

Picking up the quill beside the book, the elderly dragon gingerly opened the book to the last page. Closing his eyes so that he could once again visualise the ornate script which had adorned his dream, he began to write. He had only once felt the quill in his paws before, but it would seem that that one fleeting encounter was enough. He did not need his eyes to do what his paws already knew how to.

_When kept behind false doors repent,_

_the role they play, malicious intent._

_Together they spilt sea from sand,_

_together they can weave and mend._

_For the first a guardian of the gate,_

_a piece to bind, a lock its trade._

_For the second a flame to light the shade,_

_to banish the shadows ploughed through fate._

_For the third logic within illusion,_

_to tell stories and truth in cohesion. _

_Marked are paths seen through blind vision,_

_traced in ink of practiced precision._

_Enter the first, an accursed arrow thrown,_

_of lies once told and betrayal sown._

_Enter the second, the sword of despair shown,_

_a web of death, of love lost but once known._

_Enter the third, the dark wicked awry, _

_masters the shadows, secrets it pry._

_To douse the light and faith of aye,_

_to mark an end and live to die._

He allowed himself to open his eyes, as he dropped the quill. And slowly, he removed the lantern from around his neck.

What he was to do next was most lamentable, the old dragon knew. It was not that he feared dying, for without the lantern, he knew he would never make it back where he had come from. He had reconciled himself with this fact before he had even begun trudging through the first of the many corridors he had.

It was the fact that the book had to be destroyed.

It was a pity. All that ancient knowledge painstakingly recorded by paw in those brittle, yellowed pages which had to be treated with care, passed by from generation to generation, from one guardian to the next…

But the voice in his dreams was right. All that knowledge was dangerous. Some of which was now forbidden, many others now forgotten, and yet even more which spoke of answers to questions which should never be made known to any mortal. The book had not always been in the possession of his kind. There were already countless pages of secrets and whispers of power hidden under that dark leather cover, even before it came to be in this place. This place which none were permitted entrance, except for those with the Light in Darkness to guide their paws, to guide their hearts and to open their minds to truths which were denied to the rest of those who were living.

But eventually, the book will find its way out of here, the old blue dragon knew, just as it had found a way in. Nothing could hold it in forever, the way it had not managed to keep it out. As long as the book remains here, there was a danger that someone or another would one day discover its presence, and perhaps, be strong enough to whisk it out of this stronghold. He could feel it, the magic in those pages, restless, seeking a way out, only to be held here by an unknown enchantment cast by one of its first guardians, aided by the magic of the lantern. As long as the lantern remains here, the book will have to stay here as well. The two were bound by more than magic; perhaps, the old dragon ventured a guess, by their origins as well? No one claims to know where the lantern or the book had once come from, but if the old dragon had to speculate, he would reckon that they came from the same place, the same birth pit of magic which granted these otherwise mundane objects powers which could not be denied.

But even this was not fool proof. Nothing ever is. The most secure fortress could be breached; the most powerful spells could be broken. No matter how hard you try, spring would always pass, as would summer. All things die, only to see new life replace what had been. All beginnings eventually engage an end. Nothing is forever.

But the old dragon, who had seen more than he ever cared to, chose to believe that an end marked for salvation, redemption, instead of what many believe, to be for loss and regret. It represented a new chance to start all over again.

Ah, but he digressed. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, the old dragon forced himself to focus back on the task at hand (or would it be more appropriate to say paw?). Suffice it to say, if one day, the book should fall into the wrong hands (or paws), it would be a catastrophe.

He took a deep breath. The book cannot be destroyed by normal means, he knew. He had to fight magic with magic, as his dream had taught him.

He hurled the lantern against the candle which was even then, sitting innocently by the side of the book. The candle toppled onto the hard ground, and all at once, fire leapt up from where the candle flame touched the floor.

There was nothing here which could burn, technically, but this was no ordinary candle, and no ordinary fire. Ordinary fire eventually splutters and dies out when forced to burn on a single candle stick. Ordinary candles melt away, back to its original form, a pool of wax.

Fire engulfed the room, even as the old dragon slowly made his way out, closing the door behind him with a soft click, while an inferno rages on the other side.

* * *

><p><em>A dragon stepped out from behind a door, a golden key swinging around his neck.<em>

_In his paws, he held an elegant, slender silver flute, from which haunting, eerie, high notes emitted from._

_The fire in front of him parted, as he walked to the table where the book lay. The lantern had toppled onto its side on the table, where the old dragon had thrown it to knock the candle off its perch. _Good dragon, _the newcomer thought approvingly, _he had had his reservations regarding this rather drastic course of action, but at least he follows instructions.

_The book could not be removed from this room as long as the lantern remained in the possession of its guardians._

_But once Forfeited, the hold the spell had on both lantern and book was broken. _

_The mysterious newcomer gently removed the lantern, and then the book, placing it safely within two of the many compartments in his robe._

_He exited the room again, slowly closing the door._

_And the door vanished._

_The lantern looked none the worse for wear. The book was slightly singed around the edges, but otherwise unharmed._

_Ancestors be blessed._

"_Now, time to put you two back to where you belong," he chuckled softly, satisfied. _

_Lifting his head slowly, he saw that he was facing three doors. __All three were barred__, even though the dragon could not imagine what could be holding them down. There was no lock to be seen from the outside here, and neither was there one on the inside. _

_Of course he knew. He had been inside them often enough._

_He turned and crossed over to the third one. As the key around his neck shone gold, the door swung open. Faint purple light spilt out. The lantern began to glow with a flickering bluish light. The pages of the book began to glow with the same faint purple as the light spilling out from behind the door. The dragon noticed, but said nothing. Then, he entered through the door, and it closed softly behind him. Darkness fell again once more._


	2. Chapter 1: Intertwined

**Author's Note: Okay, I have a few things to say.**

**Firstly, I'm sorry for not being able to update more often. It's just that I have three major tests coming up, each for nine subjects, one every six weeks. And I have to study two years' worth of material. So I apologise in advance. I will be pretty absent /: I will try to update as often as possible, but I'm afraid even that would be pretty slow. **

**Secondly, a big shout out to those who helped me correct whatever errors I made, both for this story and the other one :D**

**Yup, that is about it. Happy reading :D And be as critical as you like; I can take criticism. Except if you flame, I will ignore you.**

* * *

><p><strong>Part 1: Spring<strong>

_Spring is the season past winter._

_Green is its colour, the colour of fragile shoots struggling to survive and break through the earth, the colour of new leaves on trees, the colour of melting ice, the colour of a birdsong._

_It is the colour of new life, of evolution, of winter's end, the gentleness yielded from winter's chilling grip, the green awash the land which was birthed from the blinding white of ice and snow, of frost and cold._

_Spring is the time for dancing, for rejoicing. _

_Spring is the season of hope._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 1: Intertwined<span>

Siblings, those born from the same clutch of eggs, were supposed to share a special connection no one else had. And they were supposed to be grateful for it. Right.

"Ignitus," Adiliorus glared at him, "Put that down!"

The red dragon poked his tongue out at his older brother, "No! How do you know that I'm here anyway?" Adiliorus was supposed to be running an errand for their father. So why was he here now?

The gold dragon smirked, "I have my ways." And then, Adiliorus' triumphant expression soured. "And that's mine!" He stomped his feet, his tail swinging wildly as it always did when he was agitated, "Father gave it to me!" Damn that uncanny sixth sense of his. He always seemed to know where Ignitus would be.

"He did, but he never said that I couldn't touch it!" Ignitus hollered, rashly spitting a fireball at the glaring gold dragon.

"Not without my consent!" The gold dragon snarled, _that showoff! He knows father will have our hides for using our elements in the house!_ But it was a challenge he could not back down from. He would not let it be said that he, eldest son of the mostproficient fire-breather in the village, had been cowed into submission by his younger sibling!

Raising his paws, he slapped them together before drawing them apart again. A golden aura appeared in front of him. The fireball bounced right off the shield. Ignitus yelled, immediately diving into a bundle of cushions, just as the fireball zipped past and fried the wooden table just to the side. Ignitus winced. Their father had spent weeks painstakingly carving out the lovely swirls at the sides which looked suspiciously like waves beating upon rocks at the seaside, smoothing the surfaces, waxing it to a shine. They were sure to catch hell for the large uneven bite taken out of said table.

"If you want to play rough, two can play this game!" Adiliorus was apparently not finished with him. The gold dragon yowled, leaping onto the pile of cushions which hid his brother, knocking the red dragon over.

By the time their parents arrived at the scene to separate the two screeching bundles of scales, they had both sustained their fair share of scratches and bruises. "That's enough!" their father yelled, picking the indignant Ignitus up by his tail, the red dragon still screaming bloody murder, swinging from side to side, his paws flailing around.

Adiliorus did not fare much better, seeing how their mother had given him the same treatment, "Adiliorus, calm down." The gold dragon responded to his brother's insults with his own, with as much fervour, no less. No mean feat while hanging upside down.

But it would not have been so bad if their parents had not discovered the table. Then again, it was not exactly inconspicuous.

Mother shrieked, "Ignitus! Adiliorus! Did you do this!"

Needless to say, the both of them were grounded.

* * *

><p>That had been years ago. And both of them were surreptitiously glad to say, that they had outgrown those silly antics, or at least most of them, and the childhood rivalries. While most of the adults still saw them as youngsters who needed plenty of guidance and the occasional punishment, both of them preferred to think that they had grown up somewhat.<p>

But that was the beauty of childhood. They could afford to spend time rolling around in the cool grass, splashing around the rivers scaring away fish rather than catching it as they had promised to, stoning away while staring at the dandelion puffs floating away on the wind, dancing to a silent melody, daydreaming about what they would become and wishing for something which they would have second thoughts about soon enough.

* * *

><p>"Ignitus! Adiliorus!" Mistress Ateiyl called, "Up you go now!" A stern, no-nonsense teacher, she was the best combat training instructor in the school, for both the Individual, and Paired sectors. It was said that she tolerated no tomfoolery in her classes and that she ruled over all her students with an iron paw, but if one was well-behaved and willing to accept what was being taught, lessons could be very rewarding. Ignitus looked forward to learning from her.<p>

"Let's go," Ignitus laughed, eager to show off his skills, both in aerial manoeuvring, and in combat training, though so far, they had only been exposed to lessons on the Individual component. Adiliorus only nodded, frowning in concentration, looking none too thrilled. Ignitus grinned, as he launched himself into the air, his brother following closely behind. His brother had always been the strategist, the focused one, the peacekeeper. He was the one was listened, and learned. Ignitus on the other hand, had always been more inclined towards the offensive approach.

It was true, what they say about siblings born from the same clutch of eggs being telepathic and all – after all, they were the next closest thing to being twins – or at least, most of it was true. Ignitus would not have called it telepathy in his own terms; it was simply that they were more attuned to each other's presence. Adiliorus could always tell where ignitus had gone, what he was doing or going to do, what he wanted to say, and vice versa. And they could always read each other's feelings, and know when the other is keeping a secret. But that was a needless ability. Neither of them would willingly keep a secret from the other.

But that was where all similarities ended. While both of them were fire dragons, one was gold and the other red, one with brownish eyes which could alight with fire with angered, and one with their mother's dark lapis lazuli blue eyes which looked as though they hid a lifetime of secrets within. Though it must be said, Adiliorus was a queer one. Usually, fire dragons were brown, or red, with similarly coloured eyes.

"Today's lesson would be spent deciding potential partners for each of you, for all future Paired combat training lessons. I will personally assess your elemental prowess, after which I will decide your pairings. Understood?"

From among the crowd of young dragons hovering in the sky, someone asked, "But what if we don't like our partners?"

Ateiyl smirked, "Too bad for you then. You'll just have to learn how to accept the inevitable and work together." Collective groans and grim looks were shot all around. Ignitus and Adiliorus tried their best to maintain unfazed expressions, for very different reasons: Ignitus, hoping to impress the teacher with his willingness to learn and excel; Adiliorus, because he simply was not all that interested in learning how to fight but was willing to keep up appearances as he did not want to disappoint their teacher on the first lesson.

Another voice came from the crowd. This one the siblings recognised, and he meant big trouble. Iueyon was a large dragon, large for their age, and he had no qualms about bossing the rest of them around with all that extra body weight. Though Ignitus had to admit, he was good with his element. Very good in fact.

Once he had crossed him, and the black dragon had left him with bruises which he could never really forget, even if he had managed to return the favour. If Adiliorus had not appeared in the nick of time as he always did to defend his brother, Ignitus was sure that he would have gotten away with a lot more than a bruised head and ego. That certainly taught him to think twice before he acted. His parents often teased him, wondering aloud whether that incident was a blessing in disguise. Adiliorus would pretend he had not heard anything, while Ignitus would snort, and roll his eyes at the absurdity of the statement.

Iueyon's alarming golden eyes flashed, as though issuing a client challenge, "So who do we fight to decide all this?" Ignitus unwittingly held his breath. He had been wondering about that too.

Ateiyl flashed him a toothy grin, showing off all her curved, sharp, ivory teeth. Ignitus gulped. She had a lot of them. Somehow, that expression did not bode well. He was sure of it.

"Why, you will fight me of course," she continued smoothly, still showing off that shark's grin.

* * *

><p>Not long into the lesson, Ignitus had been forced to retract his statement. "Did not bode well" was a gross understatement. They were practically pushed all around the fighting grounds like paper dolls. He was glad that he managed to escape his turn in one piece, and with nothing more serious than a gash down his thigh and underbelly, spotting rather impressive bruises all around his left flank where he had landed after being blasted out of the air by an earth bullet. Not a very welcoming sensation.<p>

Even Iueyon seemed to have met his match. Ignitus wanted to burst out laughing when he lost control of his flight and slammed face first into a tree at the far end of the courtyard while trying to corner their teacher. It had been a bold move, and a good one. But it ended off badly. Looking on the bright side, Ignitus was glad that at the very least he had managed to escape with some shred of his dignity intact. Ateiyl had admitted that his attacks had in fact been very good even though they had _a lot_ of potential to be better, and that his reflexes needed improving on. Oh, and so did his defence. No surprise there. Adiliorus had always been the defensive prodigy in the family.

But Ignitus forced himself to keep a straight face. He knew that Iueyon had hated him ever since they got into that fight; Ignitus might not have been able to overwhelm him, but the fire dragon had managed to score rather heavily as well. The black dragon did not take well to that and had been itching for a rematch. Anything could trigger him off now, and Ignitus certainly was not looking forward to fighting him in his current state.

But Iueyon refused to give up so soon. Snarling as he peeled himself off the bark, he dove for the earth dragon again, clapping his wings to his sides, his eyes sparking with anger and the desire to win at all costs. He refused to suffer again the humiliation he did when he picked a fight with Ignitus and drew. He would win this, by hook or by crook.

Ateiyl smirked. She did not even move as Iueyon flew towards her, his maw opening to release a blast of dark energy. Darkness was his element, and Ignitus knew that well, grimacing once again as he remembered the attacks Iueyon had dealt him, how the darkness ate into his scales like acid and burned him like fire. It was a rare element too, Ignitus knew. Even the elders had not seen before anything of the like. The teachers in school had not been able to really teach him what his element entailed, and what he could really do with it. Iueyon had had to figure out most of it by himself, often the hard way. Ignitus wondered whether this was why he had always been so hard on himself, and for a while, he felt a tiny measure of grudging respect for the black dragon. Very tiny.

When he came in close enough, Ateiyl suddenly slammed her paw down. An impressive earth boulder shot up, hitting Iueyon squarely in the stomach, bringing him crashing down face first. Adiliorus, standing beside Ignitus, remarked rather calmly, "He seems to be throwing himself around a lot today." Ignitus flashed him a quick grin, careful not to let Iueyon see it. But then of course Adiliorus could laugh; he had not encountered Ateiyl yet. Just wait till he got his turn.

Iueyon stayed down, completely winded. Ateiyl walked over to him, stopping right in front of the prostate black dragon. "You have a lot of raw power, Iueyon," she started calmly, "but all that need to be channelled into fuelling faster, more accurate attacks. I will expect to see improvement."

The black dragon grudgingly nodded his head in acknowledgement to his teacher's comments. Painfully, he picked himself up from the ground and slunk into the crowd. Ignitus did not envy him his state; Iueyon was probably hurting more than he was.

And then that moment passed. Ateiyl turned to them again, and called out sharply, "Adiliorus."

Adiliorus narrowed his eyes. For some reason, Ateiyl's techniques had been surprisingly familiar from the first instant he laid eyes on it. He did not know why. But he would find out.

He had thought to question Ignitus about it. But the red dragon had not seemed to know. All he did was to watch in awe, as Ateiyl brought them all down, one by one, without any of them being able to mount much of a resistance.

Direct attacks were ineffective, he knew. Ateiyl was an earth dragon, and was much larger than they were. By all estimates they should have had the advantage of agility. To their surprise, she had quickly proved that assumption wrong. With stunningly quick reflexes which belied her size, she managed to dodge many of the apprentices' attacks faster than they could properly launch them.

Adiliorus knew that his only chance lay in his defence, which was his strong point anyway.

The earth dragon had taken to circling him now. Adiliorus was wary; anytime now, she would launch an attack which would sweep him clean off his paws. He had seen that done to many of the apprentices before him, Ignitus included. He knew resolving not to fall for it was useless. She was too fast. All he hoped to do was to see through the pattern of her attacks and eventually locate a loophole he could manipulate. But so far, he was out of luck.

Adiliorus was not sure what to look out for exactly. He had watched Ateiyl carefully for the previous matches, but he had not managed to pinpoint anything which seemed of importance. Except…

Ateiyl attacked. Adiliorus blinked, as he rapidly tried to mount a defence. She did a half turn, and using her tail, she managed to throw him a reasonable distance away.

It would have worked. It was supposed to. If it did, Adiliorus knew he would have sustained the same kind of bruises which had brought Ignitus down, the kind which peppered the whole of his side. But instead, almost without conscious thought, his wings had snapped wide open, snagging on the wind, slowing his momentum.

"_You have a gift for this," Mother had said._

* * *

><p>The gold dragon managed to land on his feet, a little shakily, but standing. Ignitus's eyes widened. He had not known that his brother could do <em>that<em>. Ateiyl seemed surprised as well. Approval shone in those honey brown eyes.

Even in combat training, there were rules, albeit unspoken. Ateiyl had the first turn. It was Adiliorus's turn now, to dish out what he would.

The gold dragon knew this. And he made his move.

Springing into the air, he hovered a distance above Ateiyl's head, his face set in an almost imperceptible frown. Ignitus did not think that it was anger behind that expression. It was more like something had caught his brother's attention, something which he was supposed to know but did not, the knowledge always sliding just out of reach no matter how hard he tried to reach for it.

But what was it?

Adiliorus hoped that he would know what he was doing eventually. He certainly did not now. His instincts had driven him up here, and they had never been wrong before. He hovered in the same spot, waiting to see how Ateiyl would react. An earth dragon's element worked best when they were on the ground, after all.

Ateiyl leaped off the ground with minimal effort, slowing winging up to his level.

Adiliorus frowned. Charging her would not work. Neither would firing a direct attack. So he simply waited to see what she would do. She spoke.

"It was impressive, how you managed to recover yourself back there," Ateiyl commented, "How did you do it?" She hovered a little closer.

Adiliorus did not know how to reply. His wings were getting tired. Dragon wings were never made for hovering. If his teacher felt the same way, she did not show it. "My mother dances. She tried to teach me. I suppose it did wonders to improve my reflexes and flexibility."

He saw Ateiyl blink. Something clicked. But before he could ask her a question of his own, she had winged upwards. He tried to follow her, tilting his head up. The sun shone in his eyes, making it hard to see. He had to squint.

And Ateiyl struck, spitting an earth bullet from her mouth, then a second one. From his angle, Adiliorus could hardly see anything clearly. So he did the only thing he could. Slapping his paws together, he quickly brought them apart again. Just in time, as the bullets ricocheted off the shield and bounced back up.

And suddenly, he heard a voice from beside him, "Adiliorus." Something charged him from the side, raking claws down his left flank. And the gold dragon lost control of his flight.

"_Do it this way, yes," Mother said, holding out a paw to him, "Dance with me."_

Snapping his wings wide open before he even got very far, Adiliorus turned and spat a column of fire. He had managed to recover even faster than he did the previous turn.

Ateiyl's eyes flashed. Fluidly, she tilted her angle, allowing the fire to miss her by the barest inch. And suddenly, she heard a voice above her, "Ateiyl." Angling her head upwards, squinting, all she could see was a flash of gold, before the heat of fire washed over her.

Ignitus's eyes widened. None of them had managed to score a direct shot at Ateiyl before. And yet, Adiliorus here, who had never been particularly gifted in offensive skills, he had managed what the rest of them had not been able to.

He had seen the two of them speak, but had been too far away to hear. And then Ateiyl had attacked. There was elegance in her movements, a fluidness which was almost exquisite as she drifted down on wind currents to meet Adiliorus on his level. And Adiliorus responded in kind, twisting and flaring his wings to slow his downward plunge, all the while launching his own attack. And then, he had used the same trick Ateiyl had used on him, effectively turning the tables on her.

Though he had scored, Ignitus could tell that the attack did not do much damage. The attack was not nearly concentrated enough. And he had failed to keep it up. He sighed. Such an opportunity wasted. But then Adiliorus had never been that good at taking an offensive stand.

He watched as the green dragoness recovered as they knew she would, spiralling upwards to meet his brother, as Adiliorus sidestepped her and threw a fireball her way, also slowly spiralling upwards, following her rhythm. Ivory claws flashed in the sunlight, scales of blinding gold, interspersed with flashes of green, spinning across the wide expanse of the sky, punctuated by the occasional red-gold burst of fire and the sturdy brown colour of the earth.

It did not look as though they were fighting each other anymore. It was as though they were trying to match each other in a test of flight, of speed and endurance, tracing elaborate patterns in the sky. Their tails acting as a rudder, they banked, twisting as they changed their direction. Adiliorus rolled so that for a moment he was almost vertical, cutting through the air without much resistance at all, Ateiyl carefully following his lead, matching his show of dexterity with her own.

And then they landed, Adiliorus first, folding his wings neatly behind his back. Evidently, the show was over. But Ignitus still did not understand. And then, Adiliorus spoke, "You dance too. Don't you?"

Silence enveloped the courtyard. Ignitus held his breath. That was a weird question. But now that Adiliorus mentioned it, it made sense. Her quick reflexes, flexibility, dexterity. And suddenly, images flashed past the forefront of his mind. He remembered a scene from years ago, of he and his father watching at the side as their mother slowly led Adiliorus through the steps. The dance was meant for a group, not simply two of them, but for rough practise, it sufficed. Sidestep, twist, a flick of the tail, flare the wings, spin, avoid the other, all the time matching the rhythm, turning around each other in tune. Distinctly, he heard his mother speak again.

"_This is the spirit of dancing. A dance is more than an art; it is passion, endurance, determination, practice, and teamwork. A picture of colours intertwined, spinning in unison."_

And then, Ateiyl's voice brought him back to the present. "Yes," she said, "As do you, Adiliorus."

* * *

><p>The next day, Ateiyl named their pairings. Ignitus was paired with Adiliorus. Their pairing was impeccable. Both of them had something to offer the other, Ateiyl had said. Adiliorus needed to work on his offense, and Ignitus needed help with his defence. But Ignitus could not help noticing that she had already taken a shine to the gold dragon, the way her eyes would sometimes glint with what he knew was approval when she spoke about him. It was a strange sensation. Usually, he was the one the teachers preferred, the one they praised, especially for the Individual combat training lessons. He had always been the more outspoken one, the more gregarious one, the team leader. And how well one mastered their attacks had always been more important to their teacher. It was only when you could no longer rely on your attacks, did you have to fall back on your defence.<p>

He should be glad, he knew, happy for Adiliorus, that for once, he had managed to attain his teacher's respect in combat training. But he was not.


	3. Chapter 2: Picking up the Pieces

**Author's Note: Okay, I think there is something I should have explained long ago.**

**Regarding the whole dance thing, I took it from personal experience :D My school has a dance co-curricular activity dedicated to that. I placed it in here because, well, I like it. **

**I tried it out for two years, though really, that had not been open for negotiation. It had been part of the curriculum. And I can honestly say, it is really not as easy as I might have made it sound here. (well, partly because I had to adapt it somewhat anyway. I mean, dragons and humans have different… anatomies.) **

**I also tried out jazz, pop, even **_**Korean **_**Pop (again, it's a school thing, not subjected to choice), but personally I still think that traditional dance (well, since our Mother Tongue is Chinese, it's actually Chinese Dance) is the hardest to grasp. It took us two whole years to learn all the basics…**

**But then, that's why I decided to include this element in this story :D It's challenging, yes, and I do have two left legs (and hands) so I can't really dance well, but I don't mind. It's still an awesome art form :D. Okay enough of background information, let's carry on with the story :D**

* * *

><p><em>This story had a beginning, as all things go, and while it is not mine alone to tell, I suppose I am the only one left who can do so.<em>

_But all beginnings eventually engage an end. While it had not yet drawn to a close for all of us involved, I will deny it no longer. My part to play in this had ended, and as it should be. I no longer have any regrets, now that I had been given the chance to say goodbye to everyone, a second chance, properly this time._

_And that was the most important thing, was it not? To leave without regrets, so that the burden would not be so heavy to carry for those left behind. We always knew this was coming. There is no sense in prolonging the inevitable._

_But it was so hard, so hard to let go. Not knowing what could have been was pitiable, but knowing, and then losing, and then knowing the value of what had been lost and yet be powerless to stop it, now that was a different matter entirely._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 2: Picking Up the Pieces<span>

_It had been two years since the great Dragon War. Everything was returning to normal now, well, normal for the others, not by my own standards._

_There had been casualties, and pain, and blood, a lot of it. I did things, many things which still plague my dreams, staining them with red ink and splotches ,and screams of torture; many things which make me wish that I could turn back time, to erase my mistakes and undo all the suffering I had caused everyone around me. But as reality stands, the tides of time will never turn for anyone. I will not be misled to think otherwise. I am not proud of what I have done. But it was my past, and it is part of me and no matter what I do, I will never be able to change that._

_And that is something I will just have to learn to accept._

"Cynder!"

The black dragoness jumped in her seat, jolting the quill in her paw, ink forming a dark streak down the parchment. "Oh no," she grunted.

"Cynder?" Impatient knocking came from outside the door to her room, "Are you in there? We are late. Terrador will have our hides."

She winced, as she turned her head to face the balcony. The sun was already up in the sky, painting the balcony and the floor with a faint sheen of gold. Helplessly, she turned back to her diary, which now lay open, spread out on her desk. The streak of ink was really an eyesore. But there was no time to do anything about it now. She would just have to figure something out later on.

She grabbed her books and ran.

* * *

><p>They were late anyway.<p>

The two young dragons stood outside the classroom, nervously. Spyro stared at her, as though asking her what they should do next. She nudged him with her head. "Go on," she hissed, "We are late as it is already."

The purple dragon swallowed. Then slowly, he knocked on the classroom door, instantly garnering the attention of the students and the dark green dragon who was now frowning at them sternly. "Sorry, we are late, we, uh," Spyro began nervously, "uh…" "We lost our way. We had not known that this lesson had been shifted to this classroom instead," Cynder interrupted smoothly, neatly silencing her stuttering companion who now looked rather relieved to be let off the hook, even though he looked uneasy to be lying. But it was partly true, at least. _She _had not known until Spyro had told her so. That counted for something, did it not? One out of two was too far off the mark.

Terrador grunted, "Nonetheless, tardiness is tardiness. I had expected more from the both of you." Cynder lowered her head, in what she hoped passed for a respectful gesture, while Spyro looked genuinely chastened. She almost smiled. Spyro might have been the saviour of dragon kind, but really, in some aspects he was still so much like a child, a child who had been forced to grow up too fast under certain… circumstances.

"Take your seats now," Terrador huffed, "Make sure this doesn't happen again, do you understand me?" "Yes," the both of them chorused, with Cynder trying to sound as meek as possible so that she would be allowed to take her seat without further trouble, and Spyro sounding truly sincere.

* * *

><p>"So we lost our way, huh?" Spyro fell into step beside her, as the both of them headed off for their next lesson with Volteer in Elemental History.<p>

Cynder shot him a passing glance, "Well, that was impromptu. You looked like you needed some help. Besides, we couldn't just leave Terrador hanging now, could we?"

"I guess not," Spyro chuckled.

The purple dragon turned to her now, anticipating her response. Cynder hesitated. She had never been a conversationalist; talking was not her forte. So she simply stayed silent, and waited for him to continue.

He got the hint, "Are you going to attend the Festival celebrations then? Everyone else is going to be there. I do think it's going to be quite the show."

A small smile flitted across the black dragoness's face, "Well, are you?"

The purple dragon snorted, "Do you always have to answer my question with another one?"

Cynder simply smiled.

* * *

><p>The ink was not going to come off, Cynder could tell.<p>

She scowled. Why had she not taken the time to blot off the excess ink in the morning? She should have known that they would be late for all their efforts to be on time anyway. But she had failed to consider that. Instead, she had stupidly left it alone for the whole day, expecting to be able to do something about it after she came back from school. If she could, she would kick herself.

She sighed and dropped her head into her paws. Really, did she have to ask that question? The answer was pretty obvious, was it not?

Because _he _had been waiting outside for her, because _he_ had come looking for her even though he had not needed to. Because it would not have been _nice_ if she had shut him out of her room while she painstakingly took care of the stain, even though _he_ had been concerned enough to come after her when she had not turned up on time at their allotted meeting point, despite him knowing full well that he would be late. All that from someone who she was sure of her feelings for, but was unsure of how he truly saw her as. A friend? Someone closer? Or perhaps, just a mere acquaintance?

But even then, priorities came first.

She rolled her eyes. There was nothing to be done now. At least, not the whole page had been ruined. But even that was not much of a consolation. She could hardly read the entry now, with half of it obscured in excess ink.

She slammed the book shut, and placed it back onto the shelf in her room.

She wondered where he was now, whether he was thinking of her even as she was thinking of him. She snorted, _fat chance_. But still, daydreams were daydreams for a reason. Because they could be as impossible, as atrocious as she chose to make them out to be. Because, while she could still dream, she could hope. And she would, the way he had taught her to.

She placed a paw on the door and gently pushed it open. Stepping out of her room, she turned down the corridor, all the while contemplating where she should check first.

His room, maybe?

* * *

><p>Cynder hesitated.<p>

Finally, she raised her paw, and knocked once, twice. Then she just stood back and waited.

Presently, the door opened. "Cynder?" Spyro looked surprised to see her. Cynder did not know whether he was _glad _surprised, or _surprised _surprised, or _irritated _surprised.

Still, she tried for a smile, "Yup, it's me. May I come in?"

The purple dragon hesitated, but he did not move aside from his position beside the door to allow her entry, "Is there anything you want to talk to me about?"

Cynder swallowed, "Uh, yes. Remember that conversation we had in the morning? You asked me about the Festival celebrations?"

"Yes…" the purple dragon said slowly, dragging the word, unsure of where she was going with this.

"I just wanted to say, I –"

"Spyro!" A sudden cry came from inside the room, "Where are you?"

Embarrassment flashed across the purple dragon's face as he suddenly turned around, "I'll be back in a minute." Without waiting for her response, he turned tail and walked back into the room.

"—would like to attend the Festival celebrations," Cynder finished weakly, her voice trailing off as Spyro walked away. She felt awkward, just standing outside, no doubt looking rather silly.

She heard him say something, agitation colouring his tone, even though she was too far away to pick out exactly what he said. Someone answered then, a voice which seemed almost familiar to her, but try hard as she might, she could not put a claw on it. Uncomfortably, she shifted on her paws. As she saw it, she had three choices left here.

One, she could wait out here for him, feeling like an utter fool, until he came out to meet her again and explained what was going on.

Two, she could simply enter his room and find out for herself. But he had not invited her in. Barging in on her own would be rude, not to mention, insulting.

Or three, she could simply walk away.

Cynder was silent as she pondered. The emptiness and awkwardness which filled her now dissolved into something resembling annoyance. She had come to look for him specially, and all he had done was to abandon her outside his room like this. So much for hospitality.

"Fine then," she snorted, "since you happen to think that I'm not worth your time or your attention. I won't overstay my welcome where I'm not wanted."

She huffed and walked away.

* * *

><p>It was time again, the part of the year when the cold frost of winter melts away in the presence of birdsong in spring, the first turn of the season they would experience that year.<p>

And that meant that it was time for the Season Fair.

This Night of the Equinox was the first of the four Season Fairs which would be held each year, marking the vernal solstice, when the length of the day should be equal to that of the night. Four Season Fairs, one for each season, marking spring, summer, autumn and winter. So distinctive, so neatly were the lines drawn in between of each, Cynder could only wish that her own life could be so easily organised as well.

In reality, that was not possible. Which was why she kept a diary of her own, in own attempt to create some semblance of order out of the whole mess.

Her diary had always been her best friend. It was a habit she had cultivated, ever since she came to live here, to make this room her permanent quarters. There was not much to her previous life which she could remember, only bits and pieces which would creep up to her in her dreams and wake her up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. And yet, she was helpless to defend herself against this onslaught of memories which she wished had never happened. For how could one defend against what one could not anticipate?

That was how she learned to fear the unknown.

She did not want to forget anything else anymore. She wanted to _know, _no matter how much it would hurt, so that nothing else could ever be drudged up from her past and used against her, without her knowledge.

It was complicated, she admitted, the reasons she had for doing some things which she did. She did not expect anyone to understand.

Then again, she did not care.

She sat down in front of her table, and started another entry.

_Dear Diary…_

* * *

><p>The white dragoness willed herself to steel her nerves. Raising her paw, she knocked on the smooth lacquered surface of the door.<p>

"Come in," directed a low voice. She pushed open the door and entered.

A single black dragon stood in the middle of the room, facing a shallow pool of water. A stone sword marked its deepest centre, impaled in the soft mud at its bottom. And not for the first time, the white dragoness caught herself wondering just how a pool could have been built in the middle of the room. Once, when she was given the chance to look inside, she had seen fishes swimming in its depths, and the mud, and of course, the huge sword which always stood where it was.

_Magic,_ she supposed, _strong magic. Dark magic._

"It is time," the figure articulated, dragging out every single syllable. Even as she continued forward, he did not turn to acknowledge her, "I suppose you know what to do."

"Yes, Master," she curtsied deeply, but there was no respect behind that action. It was simply a formality. She feared the black dragon which stood in front of her now, she feared him deeply, but she did not respect him. She never did, and she never will.

He turned. In his hands, he clutched a map. However, that was not what held her gaze. His eyes, when his gaze met hers, were cold, emotionless. Like a deep unfathomable pool of water, where sunlight could not reach the bottom, they were veiled, as though many secrets lay behind their murky depths. She met it coolly. He had his secrets, and she had hers. She would not pry. "Yes, I hear and understand," she repeated, ever so calmly.

His glassy eyes bored deep into hers, sharp and piercing, as though staring into the very depths of her soul. As if he could read her mind if he stared hard enough. Or maybe he really could. He was an enigmatic figure. She returned his glance with one of her own. Blank, sharp, with the same cold glint.

"Very well," He said quietly, "I do not tolerate failures, as well as you must understand."

His voice, though soft, had the edge of sharp, unyielding steel to it. She knew. If she did not succeed, she would feel its chilling bite on her neck. "I understand," her voice carried the undertones of understanding a promise sealed, without the customary handshake.

"You know the consequences." It was a statement, not a question. All the same, she knew he expected an answer, "I understand, Master."

"Good." He came forward to stand in front of her. She stiffened automatically. His eyes, the colour of blue so light it was almost white, seemed almost innocent, but she was not fooled. One word, and her head would roll. That was the power he wielded, the respect he commanded from the rest of his troops. "Take this. Follow the path. Seek them out."

She took the map from his paws. There, traced in ink the colour of blood, was a path leading to a city. The great city of dragons, grander and larger than any other she had known. Slowly, she traced the thread of ink with a claw, trying her hardest to memorise the route she was supposed to take.

Then, she looked up and saw his face. The barest glint of a smile flitted across his features. It conveyed not friendliness, but cruelty. It seemed to taunt her, and she knew that it was an unspoken warning. A reminder of her duty, and the consequences it would entail should she fail. Revenge exacted would be swift. But she would not fail. She would see to that.

* * *

><p>The door clicked shut behind the white. The black dragon stood silently, waiting until the click of claws on stone retreated into the distance, a slow sneer creeping across his face.<p>

Then, turning to the pool again, he closed his eyes and concentrated.

The stone sword glowed with a soft violet hue. And suddenly, tendrils of smoke began threading their way, dancing lightly on the surface of the water, chasing each other playfully, marking streaks of white which obscured the water surface.

For a while, more and more smoke was churned out, seemingly from the sword itself. The whole pool of water was blanketed by choking white. The black dragon opened his eyes then, and admired his handiwork.

It took some time, but slowly, the smoke stopped coming, and the white thinned out. Eagerly, the dragon leaned closer to the pool and stared.

A moving image appeared then, encompassing the whole length of the pool. It showed a scene at night, just outside his fortress, the moon a bare sliver in the sky. And suddenly, two dragons, an adult and a child, one gold and one white, appeared in a flash of white light. The black dragon frowned, irritation marring his previously smooth facial features. No matter how many times he had reviewed this series of events, over and over again, he still had not managed to figure out just how they could have appeared out of nowhere.

The gold was speaking now, and his voice permeated every corner the room, "This is where I'll have to leave you."

Consternation flashed across the youngling's face. Alarm sparked to life in her cornflower blue eyes, "You're leaving me now?"

The gold chuckled, "Yes. Here's where we'll have to part." A sad smile graced his face, "I'm sorry."

The white was silent for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was high and reedy, the way a child's voice was when upset, "But I don't want you to leave. I'm scared, and I won't know what to do. Stay here with me?"

The smile on the gold's face dissolved into nothingness. His voice was tinged with sadness, "I can't. This is what you must do, and you'll have to do it alone. My path lies somewhere else, not here."

Something changed then, in the little dragoness's stance, "I know." She paused, before continuing, "I shouldn't have asked." The gold did not answer for a time.

"She needs you in there. She needs a friend, and so do you," he spoke softly, "I know you're frightened. So am I. But it is this fear which makes us wise and cautious, and careful in any step we'll take from now on. It is not without its benefits. Besides, you remember what I told you, don't you?"

She nods, "He would be a fool, who would not fear what would come. But it is knowing the need to fear, and yet being able to push on, to exceed your limits, to do what you have to, that is true courage." She blinked, "But I'm not brave like that."

The gold smiled, "Then you'll just have to learn to be. We both do."

The white hesitated. Then, she grimaced, "Okay. I'll try."

"Good. That's all I can ask of you to do," the gold smiled sadly.

The white nodded. She turned away from him then, to face the fortress, trying to sound as brave as she could, "So what do I do now? Just walk in on them and say hello?"

"Nope, you don't have to do anything. This is my part to worry about," the gold said from behind her.

The steel in his voice made her flinch, and she turned around again, "What? But I thought you said—"

Something on the gold dragon's chest glowed gold, and as the black dragon watched with those glassy eyes, the white's pupils dilated.

She collapsed in a dead faint.

The gold dragon stood there for a while more, not speaking, simply staring.

Suddenly, brilliant white light engulfed him. And as quickly as the gold dragon had appeared, he was gone, leaving behind the prostate white dragoness, where she was found the next morning, disoriented and confused, with no idea who she was or why she was there.

The surface of the pool clouded over then, before it cleared again. The black dragon snorted, frustrated. That was all the images ever showed him about her, never anything more. But he needed to find out more. If the gold dragon was who he thought he was, then this would be essential in order for him to be able to further his cause successfully.

But he was nothing if not patient. Patience was a virtue. He would wait, wait for more information to present itself, perhaps until the gold dragon showed himself once more. After all, it was this patience which enabled him to outlast the downfall of Malefor. He snorted again, rolling his eyes.

He remembered how he had once told the great purple dragon that it was too soon to strike back against their enemies, to reclaim his throne at the temple so fast after he had just escaped from his convexity prison; that such things required finesse and planning and precision, but of course, Malefor did not listen to his advisor. He rarely did.

And what came of it? Things looked good for the Dark Master for a while. Until the last moment, when everything they had worked for crumbled to nothing but dust, when two younglings barely old enough to venture the world on their own had taught him what true courage meant, and what it meant to possess such spirit.

But he was different. He would not fail, the way his old Master had. He would never make the mistake of underestimating their enemies or the power of teamwork and love, again.

Which was why he was not in this alone.

He grinned then, laughter bubbling up from his throat, almost uncontrollably.

Something told him that things were about to get interesting very soon.

**Author's Note (cont.): Making page breaks is so irritating... It just doesn't show up here unless it's lines /: But so many lines is just...**

**If anyone else actually knows a way to get around this, do write a review or PM me :D**


	4. Chapter 3: Face to Faith

_In the beginning, there were only words to tell the story._

_In the beginning, back when there had only been the raw elements, fire, wind, ice and electricity all bleeding into each other, shaping each other's forms, earth and rocks were born of liquid fire's giving embrace, cracking and splitting apart at the seams, forming and destroying, creating and being created, the rest of the raw elements chiselling out details in the land they had been born into._

_In the beginning, when our primordial_ _ancestors first descended from the Above, flashing scales on spinning winds, they learnt how to open their eyes and wings, how to fly, how to conquer, how to master the skies. They were an ancient race, and once we had a King, in a time when no one knew his name, and neither had there been any need to…_

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3: Face to Faith<span>

Adiliorus missed the stories.

He still remembers how there was a time once when his mother would pick him up and settle him in her lap, when he would beg her to tell him the stories and she would laugh, saying, "Those are only fantasies, stuff of dreams. They aren't real."

But they did not have to be, to enrapture him the way they had, and neither had he once wished for them to be something they were not. If they were, they would not have been the stories he loved. Strings of words strung together by the meticulous craft of tongue, thin threads interwoven into shimmering mats of something intangible but was _there _all the same, whispering secrets on trailing winds, ready to tell anyone who would listen. And listen he had. Listening had always been the one thing he was good at. There were always other meanings behind the stories, far deeper, sometimes even darker, hidden under layers upon shifting layers of smooth cloth and soft silk and wrinkled velvet which seldom chafed at the skin, hidden from plain sight, but not so far away that it was unreachable. All Adiliorus knew he had to do was to look beyond what he could see with his eyes.

"But you don't mind, do you?" His mother's lips curved upwards at the edges to form a slight smile, "You listen, you watch, you learn, but you never speak, never question.

"Others might tell you otherwise but sometimes, it _is _better to stay silent. Sometimes, when things go too far, unwavering faith will be the only constant you have left to hold on to, the only reliable guide you have left to trust. Follow its lead, Adiliorus, follow your heart, and believe. Do you understand?"

The little gold had nodded. Curiously, innocently, the only way a youngling could be, he had blinked at his mother, "Just like you, mother?"

The female had nuzzled him warmly, if not a little sadly, "Yes. Just like me."

In the end, his mother would always give in. And for a while, he would be immersed in a sea of colours, buoyed by his mother's voice like waves on the tides of the sea, to reach out and feel the heat Creation's handiwork always left behind, all brought to life in that momentary lull in time.

Until his brother and father return from their miniature expeditions or hunting trips, and then his mother would pause in the midst of her storytelling, stroke his head lovingly, lift him out of her lap and bustle off to fulfil her duties as a responsible wife to her mate and mother to her kits, of which storytelling played no part in.

Adiliorus had never really understood why his father disapproved of his mother's favourite pastime; to him, it seemed a wonderful hobby. And his mother had such a lovely storytelling voice… It seemed almost cruel to him that such spirit and passion, such _talent_, had to go to waste. A frivolous waste that was, and for that, he felt pity and loss.

But over time, as he grew up, as he understood more about the way things worked in reality, as he learnt more about pity and loss, those feelings began to fade away. He understood how they only hurt if you allowed them to, so gradually he figured out how to defend himself against their onslaught by painstakingly laying the foundation brick by brick, strengthening and thickening the walls with every turn of the moon, with every reason time gave him to. At the start, inexperienced as he was, more had hit home than he meant to count, but he was nothing if not determined, and his efforts slowly began to pay off. With his own mounted defence in place, he managed to deflect many of those blows aimed carefully at him, cocooning himself in a protective layer born of need.

He was not his father, or the child he had always wanted, the way his brother was. He was not of the steel they were made of, unyielding and proud, nor had he been born of the fires which they were shaped from, the moulds in which they had been cast into. He did not fit into the role preordained for him as his father's child, not the way a key would fit into a lock it was crafted for. Sometimes Adiliorus caught himself wondering whether this was the true reason behind his formidable ability to defend; whether it had truly been a gift his Ancestors had entrusted to him in faith that he would make good use of it, or if it was simply a pathetic attempt on his part to fend for himself, a miserable excuse for someone who did not belong in the lot he was cast in.

But really, it did not matter in the end. There were still some things he knew for certain, and these made him who he was, who he knew he wanted to remain. Things change, and he knew that eventually, even such steadfast ideals might be shaken, but for now he was content to simply heed whatever limited knowledge he had of himself.

He was only Adiliorus, but that was what made all the difference.

He was only his mother's child.

* * *

><p>That was why he was surprised when the little white dragoness suddenly appeared at the door of his classroom without prior warning, just as school let out. He was not accustomed to dragons looking for him; most of the time those who approached him simply wanted to know where Ignitus was. He was the insignificant one between the two of them, the one who could only fade into the backdrop of the stage on which Ignitus shone, at the centre with all eyes on him.<p>

He tried for a smile, "Ignitus isn't in the same class as me. This is herbalogy; you'll find him at the classroom one block down from here, at the Advanced History of Elemental Studies –"

"It's not your brother I'm looking for, I assure you," the white jumped in quite rudely, cutting him off midsentence, "I do know who I'm looking for, thank you very much for your attempted assistance of which I have no need for, and I do know that I'm staring at him right now, period."

That stopped him in his tracks, "What?"

The white dragoness rolled her eyes, her patience obviously running thin, "You're Adiliorus, aren't you? Gold dragon, Ignitus's brother, prodigy in Defence under Mistress Ateiyl?"

"Uh, I suppose…" Adiliorus winced. He felt like an idiot here, standing before this dragoness who had just rather blatantly waltzed into his classroom and taken control over the situation, "Is there a reason why you're looking for me?" Ignitus should be handling this situation instead of him. His brother was the smooth talker, the diplomatic one who always knew what to speak and when, not him.

"As a matter of fact, there is," the little female certainly did not waste words. A head shorter than him, she was petite, and while he was sure that she was his junior, though not by many years, Adiliorus was not sure why he found her vaguely familiar. He was certain that he had not met a white dragoness before; if he did, he would remember. She was of such a distinct colouring.

"Ateiyl sent me here to look for you, said you could help me out with regards to this little… dilemma I'm currently facing here, so to speak…" Now that was surprising. Adiliorus had not realised that Ateiyl had actually paid attention to him during lessons. He supposed that he was just so used to being slighted.

"I need you to coach me in the offensive tactics," she finished simply.

* * *

><p>"Your defences, both physical and elemental, had been focused and concentrated all around. And you hardly waste any moves. That's very good.<p>

"Your reflexes are superb, but really, I expected no less of you as a traditional dancer under my tutelage…

"Your physical attacks are strong, sharp. Very efficient."

And here, Ateiyl had winced, and Illaryn's heart sank. She swallowed, waiting for her teacher to continue with her report. But that ominous pause… Something was wrong here…

Ateiyl sighed, and plunged on, "But your elemental attacks, suffice it to say, you'll never last if you should ever decide to rely on them. Just what's wrong, Illaryn?"

The little white shuffled a little on her paws, mumbled some half-hearted, incoherent answer in a whisper too low for Ateiyl to hear. The olive green dragoness huffed, "You don't lack potential, Illaryn. You have the markings of a powerful combatant and a formidable foe on the battlefield. And I know you; determination to excel, you have those in spades. So just what is holding you back?"

The youngling simply made some noncommittal grunts which neither acknowledged nor deflected her accusations. Impatient, Ateiyl slammed her paw onto the ground, sending up a warning cloud of dust, "Answer me!"

"I… I really don't know," Illaryn's voice was subdued, uncertain, slightly scared at her teacher's sudden display of anger, "I just can't… bring myself to use it."

"Well, you certainly have no qualms about going physical, and we both know that it's not the problem with your elemental control; your elemental defences are more than capable of attesting to that," now Ateiyl only sounded annoyed, but it no longer seemed as though her teacher was speaking to her. Illaryn did not care; she was glad for a respite from her teacher's ranting. Ateiyl really could take things a notch too far sometimes. But she was not complaining; if not for Ateiyl's stubborn drive for perfection, their traditional dance troupe would not have attained the standards they had.

After a while, the green dragoness turned her attention back to her student, "Well, clearly, you'll need some help in this department if you want to clear this component of the class."

Illaryn had no answer to that, even as anxiety sparked in her cornflower blue eyes.

"But it's not too late yet. You do still have some time, to hone your skills for this coming set of assessments. You just need some help," Ateiyl mused, "I would, if I could. But I don't think I'm the best dragon for the job here…"

Illaryn stubbornly kept mum. Ateiyl raised an eyeridge at her student's apparent disinclination to reply. So. If Illaryn wanted to keep this up, two could play this game. But first, she needed bait… The dark green dragoness grinned. Of course, as a fellow dancer, she knew what her apprentice here could not possibly be able to stand down from.

"You've always been able to manage whatever I've thrown to you, both as a student and a dancer. So why not this?" Ateiyl demanded, "Dare you respond to this, Illaryn?"

The little white's cheeks flushed, "Are you challenging me?" Illaryn did not put that past her teacher; Ateiyl loved challenges, and as a member of the traditional dance troupe, she knew Ateiyl's teaching methods just too well.

"Why," her teacher looked smug for a while, "As a matter of fact, yes. Do you accept?"

"Do I have a choice?" Illaryn shot back, clearly exasperated.

"No, you don't." Still grinning, her teacher plunged on, "I have another student in your brother's class two levels up; you might know him."

"Huh," Illaryn frowned in concentration. She did not know many of the older students studying at the Academy, at least not personally, though she did know more by name, if not acquaintance.

"His name is Adiliorus. The gold dragon, Student Councillor Ignitus's brother," Ateiyl declared with a flourish. But then, her eyes darkened and Ateiyl grew serious again, "I know that it's served you well. But physical attacks can only go so far, Illaryn. Do you understand?"

The little white heard what her teacher left unspoken. _I can't always be there to hold you up and keep you from falling. Someday, you'll have to learn to do this for yourself. For others. Do you understand? _She had not understood what it meant at first. But she was starting to understand it, if only a little, now. Suddenly quietened, the little white did not respond.

Ateiyl did not wait for her to, "Well, take your time to mull this over. But I do believe this to be the best option you have. After all, I sense that both of you has much to offer each other and to gain in this mutual partnership…"

* * *

><p>"She said all that?" the gold dragon queried, as he led the way down the corridor heading away from the classroom.<p>

"That's _all_ she said," Illaryn snapped irritably, "I thought you might know what we should do. But you don't, do you?"

Adiliorus looked almost amused at her disgruntled outburst, "No, I don't. And neither do you. But she won't say something like that without a reason. So we'll just have to find out why."

Illaryn simply snorted in reply.

Presently, they turned the bend down another corridor, and Adiliorus froze, frowning. It would seem that they had taken the wrong route. They were standing in the archway which connected the first and second buildings of the Academy, the one which led to the classrooms for all the advanced classes of various subjects.

"I have never come here before; is this where all the advanced classes are held?" Illaryn looked around, surprised and curious.

"Well, yes. Which grade are you in?" Adiliorus started forward again. No matter that they took the long route; he could always loop back to where they came from. It was just a needless waste of time and effort to do so.

"I'm in the level two grades down from yours," Illaryn was not really paying attention to him anymore; normally, she had no cause to come here. Adiliorus smiled a little. He had been curious like that too, when he first came over here, "Well, starting next year, if you do make it, your teachers will place you in some of the advanced classes here."

"I know that," the little white _hrmphed_, "Well, what advanced classes do you take?"

"Advanced Herbalogy, Advanced Defence," the gold smiled good-naturedly, "And Advanced Literature. Just none of them today."

"Adiliorus?"

The gold blinked at the sound of someone calling his name, and turned. Behind him, a rust red dragon was pacing towards him, looking mildly surprised and amused, "You have lessons here today?" And here, his eyes sharpened, "And you are with her? Iueyon's sister?"

"Is that a problem?" The little white retorted icily from Adiliorus's side.

The gold blinked. So that was why he found her vaguely familiar. She had been there that day, when Iueyon picked that fight with Ignitus.

The red looked surprised for a while, then he slowly grinned, "I'll be late getting home today. Council meetings are really getting on my nerves.

"Well, it's been nice meeting the both of you," and here, he did a mock bow, "But I better get going. Professor Inictore would have my hide for being late." Winking conspiratorially at his brother, he turned away and disappeared into a classroom further up the corridor where they had come from. Adiliorus rolled his eyes. That Ignitus. He might be a model student and all, but even then, there was a cheeky side to him which few ever saw, or expected.

"Gracious. That's your brother?" Illaryn huffed, "The two of you are certainly different." Adiliorus only smiled in reply. Illaryn smirked.

"So, where are we going?" The little white enquired, just as they stepped out of the exit. Adiliorus shrugged, "I don't know."

"What?"

"I just thought my feet would lead me where I need to go," the gold almost laughed at the bemused expression on her face, "Trust me, will you? I won't get us lost."

"_I'm_ not afraid of getting lost!" Illaryn shot back haughtily.

Adiliorus smirked, "Then let's get a move on, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"You're a bird of prey, " that voice came to her again, as those paws clasped snugly around her smaller wrists, exerting a slight pressure on them as she brought it up, then down, then up again, "Flick them out like this. Yes."<p>

Illaryn strained to hold her position as Ateiyl slowly guided her through the motions, _don't concentrate on the fact that you've nothing soft to land on if you fall. Trust them. _Her two other troupe members, slightly larger than her in build, struggled to hold her in position, twisting their bodies around such that their heads were tilted at an angle upwards, facing her, only one foot holding their weight and hers as the other was thrust out in front of them, straight and stiff, toes pointed downwards. The role they had assumed was no easier on them than hers. Except, when they got on stage, she would be the one drawing all the attention from the audience.

A cursory glance all around the dance studio told her that the other members of the dance troupe were already all in position, sprawled all around on the ground in different directions. Some had their wings spread out, while others closer to her had lifted themselves half off the ground, their backs arched backwards, one paw stretched over their heads to grab onto their leg, the other pointed stiffly upwards, their claws stiffly bent at various angles. She just wished that they did not have to look at her so.

"Hold your balance. Lower your front like this. Bring your arms up. Slowly," Ateiyl's voice was almost soothing.

And suddenly, she let go. Without Ateiyl there to hold her, her arms felt strangely leaden. Illaryn's eyes widened as she felt her balance tilt, _No!_

She panicked, shifting her body. The other two under her hardly had time to react as she flipped out of the cradle they made from their paws, her tail clipping their legs, and the three of them went down together in a mess of tangled limbs and tails.

"Good gracious, are you okay?" The other dragons had broken out of formation and were all over them in a moment. One stood in front of her, one paw out to help her up, the other two receiving similar treatment from the others. Illaryn took it. Together, the younglings turned their attention to Ateiyl, who was looking rather grim.

"The rest of you, practise," the large green dragoness did not blink, "Illaryn, you come with me."

The little white felt something lodge painfully in her throat. She swallowed, "Yes, Ateiyl." Shelia, two years her senior and also the one who had helped her up, smiled at her consolingly, "Don't look so worried. You'll be fine." So saying, she gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, and let her go.

Illaryn wished she did not have to. But even so, she understood that she had to do this alone. Determined, she turned and paced towards Ateiyl, her back stiffly straight, resolving not to look frightened.

The older dragoness looked almost amused, before she stood up and turned away, beckoning the youngling to follow, "Well then. Come with me."

* * *

><p>They stopped in the middle of a small open space, ringed by trees at the side. Illaryn snapped to attention, the sight of the gold dragon suddenly pausing in front of her disrupting her reverie. Her scales itched with discomfort when she realised that she did not have the slightest inkling as to where they were. She <em>was <em>lost, even if he knew where he was going.

"Here we are," Adiliorus smiled almost cheerfully.

He could not help noticing that she was nervous, even though she tried to look unafraid. Her lips were pursed together tightly, her eyes shining with ferocity, her tail coiling and uncoiling behind her, like a cat deciding whether to bite. He had to give her credit; if anyone else had been here, they would have been scared of _her_. But he had always been more observant than most. Most of time others spent ignoring him, he had spent watching them, quietly, from the sidelines, observing their reactions to different situations, learning what caused them to do so. And so he knew that nothing inspired a defensive front better than anxiety or fear.

"So. Now that we're here, let me see what you can do first. I need to gauge your abilities before I decide just how best to proceed," Adiliorus's eyes flashed. In the light, they seemed a dark purplish blue, almost haunting, "You're a dancer. No?"

That caught her off-guard; Adiliorus saw her jump a little, "What?"

Amusement lit up in those eyes, "it's in the way you walk, the way you stand. To someone who knows what to look out for, it's really quite obvious."

_Really? _Illaryn looked at him doubtfully. No one had said that of her before. But then, Adiliorus was unlike anyone she had ever met before. On the surface, he seemed genially nice, but there was an… intensity about him which made her reflect upon her initial impression of him. But something still bothered her, _what did he mean when he said 'to someone who knows what to look out for'? _

Nonetheless, they were already here, even if she was beginning to have second thoughts, "So what do you want me to do first?"

Adiliorus smiled a little. She glared at him suspiciously.

"Dance for me," he said simply. Then, he lunged at her.

* * *

><p>"You do not trust them?" Ateiyl turned to her, her expression veiled.<p>

The white dragoness shook her head, shocked that her teacher might suggest such a thing, "Of course I do! And I did! Why do you say that?" As a dancer, Illaryn knew better than anyone the importance of trusting her teammates. A dance was a team effort. In order to pull it off successfully, each of them had to learn to trust the others to do their own parts beautifully. They had to trust themselves as well, trust their paws and feet to know what they had to do, trust the beat of the music to lead them on, trust their own rhythm… It was not as easy to put together a dance as it might seem to onlookers who were not there to witness just how much preparation it took to get themselves ready for show on stage.

"Do you know why I put you up there?" Ateiyl's voice smooth, "At the centre of attention, even though you have seniors who are older, more experienced and would certainly have less trouble taking up the role?"

The little white tried not to let it show, but her teacher's words stung anyway, "No."

The olive green adult tilted her head slightly, "You don't trust others easily, do you? You're wary of everyone around you."

Illaryn deigned to reply.

"They wouldn't have dropped you, you know," Ateiyl said coolly, "you should know that you can trust them, even if you don't trust yourself. They just needed some time to adjust their paws and balance your weight.

"A dance isn't always about perfection, little one. Sometimes, it's the little adjustments made along the way which makes all the difference. I can't always be there to hold you up and keep you from falling. Someday, you'll have to learn to do this for yourself. For others. Do you understand?"

Illaryn's tail twitched a little, even as she clamped her lips tightly shut. She tried to maintain her mask of indifference, even though something in her teacher's words disturbed her. Was Ateiyl really right? Was there more to trust than what she thought she already knew? Could trust really be a show of independence, even though it fully relied on another's cooperation?

It was as though Ateiyl knew what she was really thinking. Above her, Illaryn thought she could see her smile.

* * *

><p>Illaryn ducked as Adiliorus's ivory claws flashed in the sun, raking the air where she had just been. Twisting her body, she swung her tail at his legs. It was as though he knew what she was going to do even before she did it. He grabbed it in his paws, pulling on it sharply. The little white felt herself sliding. Raising her hind paws, she dealt him a swift back kick.<p>

Her legs glanced past something hard, and she blinked hard, surprised. How was it possible that he could be so fast?

The gold dragon charged her from the side, his head connecting with her side, throwing her onto the hard ground.

She rolled away as his tail slammed into the ground, missing her by inches. Hurriedly, she climbed to her feet, eyes narrowed, "You cheated! How could you have attacked me without prior warning?"

He did not reply. He simply stood a distance from her, and opened his maw. A stream of red hot dragon fire came at her, which she quickly ducked.

Heat washed over her, as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision of the bright spots which were burned into her retina by the sudden bright light of the fire. And then he leapt onto her, pining her down with his weight. Illaryn snarled, trying to push him off, but he was larger than her, and stronger. She had thought that she would have the advantage of agility born of flexibility on her side, but apparently, she was wrong.

"Your form is brilliant, your movements sure," the gold dragon's voice was smooth, "But you need to put more strength into your attacks."

Illaryn hissed at him, "Well, you can start by playing fair."

The gold looked almost amused, "That was called getting you prepared. I can be an honourable opponent, and so can you, but you can't guarantee your foe to be the same, can you?"

"So you're suggesting that we all start using dirty, underhanded tactics?" Illaryn snorted.

"No, I just thought that you might want to start learning how to get around that. You're fast, but it's nothing I can't catch up with if I just put more effort into it. If you had thought of attacking me elementally, I would have been the one who had to duck instead of you," he commented mildly, "I just thought that you would fare better if you learnt on the job, that's all."

She did not comment for a time. Then suddenly, her eyes sharpened, "Point taken. Now, can you get off of me?"

* * *

><p>Adiliorus never felt more embarrassed in his life. How could it have possibly slipped his mind that he was lying on top of her in that most awkward position?<p>

But besides that most unflattering faux pas he committed, there were other matters which garnered his attention as well.

Illaryn was a most cooperative student, and no matter how hard he pushed her, she did not give up. He could not help but be impressed, _is this the spirit of a dancer which mother used to tell me about?_ He was his mother's apprentice for a while, until he grew up and she got too busy with her Ambassador duties to bother about him too much. He did practice on his own occasionally, when there was no one else in the house to watch him, but it just was not the same. Still, it helped him with his combat classes, so he supposed it was not all bad.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get her to attack him _elementally. _Defence was one thing, but for some reason, she was simply reluctant to take an offensive stand elementally even if it was pretty obvious that it would have made things much easier for her. The gold dragon had reason to suspect that it was not so much that she _refused _to do it, but rather, whether she was pathologically able to. She seemed to tense up every time he mentioned that she should work on her elemental attacks, and sometimes when they fought he would see her tense up suddenly, before she ducked whatever attack he launched at her while she was distracted. She was trying, he knew. But for some reason, something was stopping her, holding her back.

Adiliorus thought that he could begin to see why Ateiyl had sent her to him in the first place. The olive green dragoness had always been known for her unconventional teaching methods; her steel tempered with concern, the core of iron within her not unyielding, able to bend in the wind the way a willow branch would. The strength behind that mask of fragility, the one unique quality which made her the perfect instructor in both dance and combat, one aggressive, one almost ornamental. They were vastly different, and yet they shared so many key similarities. Just as Ateiyl had them attack her when classes first started in order to truly gauge their abilities, for desperation and real life danger had often been known to unlock one's true potential, she had wanted to fight fire with fire, to put the both of them together so that they would have to work on their attacks in order to break through the other's defences. He had to admit, the benefits had not been solely one-sided; he had gained much from watching her fight as well.

But when he asked Illaryn about it, the little white either kept quiet, or retorted with some sharp remark of her own. It was clear that she was hiding something.

If he was to help her get over her disability, Adiliorus knew that he needed to find out what she was hiding. But if she was unwilling to tell him what it was, he would just have to find out through other means.

And that he would, Adiliorus knew. He might not be a dancer the way Illaryn was, but even then, he was nothing if not determined. He would get to the bottom of this.

For better or for worse.


	5. Chapter 4: Scribbled in Ink

_They came from a land of magic._

_Magic was in the air they breathed, the grass beneath their feet, and the melody of running water. Magic was in the soil, from which they grew their crops, the colours of the landscape, the brilliant azure of the sky and the songs of the birds._

_Peace reigned for a time, and the dragons soon began to establish ties and trade links with their neighbours. Bolts of cloth, dyes of every possible colour and hue, timber, jewellery and craft, were often laid in neatly arranged piles on tables and racks, of store owners hawking their wares. There was laughter to be heard on the streets, of children being children, playing, chasing, and hurling spells at each other in the name of fun._

_But when their Queen died, everything changed._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 4: Scribbled in Ink<span>

_Dear Diary…_

… _Wealth. Dreams. Family. Love. Freedom. Friendship. If you had to make a choice, which one would you take?_

_You know what you have. You know what you were given._

_But if you could rewrite your destiny, which would you choose? Hmm?_

… _The nightmares are coming more and more frequently. Nightmares, fragments of memories, the stuff of dreams. It's all coming back._

_Ever since that day he locked me out, it's like another floodgate had been opened, the door to the truth._

_It's a part of you; it's something you can't deny._

_But is it really possible to be afraid of yourself?_

_And if you're afraid of yourself, why shouldn't everyone else be? Why shouldn't he be?_

"That goes over there," the blue dragoness smiled, pointing one claw upwards.

Cynder grunted, "Very helpful, Essa."

That was easy for her to say. She was not the one currently trying to balance her weight on her two hind feet while standing on a chair which was not exactly holding steady, reaching for a tiny ring which stayed stubbornly out of reach.

She sighed.

"You _are_ taller, Cynder," Essa stifled a laugh, "That's not my fault."

"Are you trying to praise me?" Cynder grunted, attempting a little hop, "Or are you actually gloating at my predicament?" Not good. The chair wobbled, and Essa yelped, "Watch where you are placing your feet!"

"At least I didn't place them on you, " Cynder replied dryly. Her paws ached. All four of them. She did not think she could hold her balance for much longer.

"Whose bright idea is this again?" Cynder glowered, the subject of her ire still hanging just out of her reach despite her best efforts. She would fly, if she could. That would certainly be more convenient, and best of all, there would be no need for the chair. It was just too bad that flying was forbidden in their not-so-spacious classroom.

She wondered just how she managed to get herself into this mess. All she remembered was how Essa had volunteered to help, and then proceeded to drag her in. Cynder did not really care for the job, but she could hardly refuse. After all, she still owed Essa a favour…

Then again, she did not really want to know.

"Blame it on Mercor," Essa chimed in rather unhelpfully, "Oh, and Volteer, for agreeing to his suggestions. Which aren't really all that bad, Cynder." Cynder snorted. She would agree, if trying to balance like a clown on a chair with a piece of cloth in her front paws had not been part of the deal. And she had not really expected a reply.

"Can I try?" She heard someone call from below. Essa smirked, "Why, sure. I'm sure Cynder would like to take a break, won't you dear?"

The black dragoness glared and was prepared to deliver a biting retort when she realised just who was standing below, looking up at her.

"Spyro!" She jumped a little, "Aren't you supposed to be at your Geography class?" The accursed chair wobbled again, threatening to dump her right off.

"Nope," the purple dragon answered, sounding almost chipper, "I transferred out of Geography, remember? I'm taking the Integrated Humanities course now." Shaking his head, he took the cloth from her paws and stepped up the chair, "Not exactly one of my best ideas. And Volteer isn't available for lessons today, so we were released early. I just thought I would pop over and see how your class is getting on." He reached the ring with considerably less trouble than she had, looping the cloth through and tying a knot, "Things look pretty good over here, all things considered." Cynder thought that was laughter she heard in his voice.

"Done!" Essa hollered across the class. At the corner diagonally opposite from theirs, the black dragoness saw a mud brown dragon wave excitedly, giving them a rather exaggerated wink. Essa returned the animated wave with one of her own. Cynder simply turned away.

The long piece of cloth hung loosely, stretching diagonally across the ceiling from one end of the class to another, intersecting another which hung from the other two corners. Cynder glanced approvingly at them. Small pieces of glass had been sewn onto the material, and mirrors had been placed at strategic positions from the windows to angle the light towards the cloth. And when the cloth rippled in the wind, it almost looked as though it was shimmering, wavy, like a mirage in a desert. "Very nice," Spyro commented, hopping off the chair to stand beside her, "Blue, like the sky in spring. It fits the theme of the Season Fair. And whose idea is this?"

"Mercor," Essa called out from behind them, moving the chair back to where they had first found it, "I told you his ideas aren't all that bad, Cynder!"

The black dragoness simply rolled her eyes in reply.

* * *

><p>… <em>There are some things you always wish you had said when you have the chance to. But no matter how much you try, you just can't bring yourself to say them.<em>

_Some things are better left unsaid I suppose._

_Someone once told me that what's unsaid can be louder than words spoken out loud._

_Why is it that he doesn't seem to hear me at all then?_

Standing by the window, Cynder's eyes glowed with green fire in the light of dusk.

The window was large, taller than her even, panes of glass held together by thin segments of lead.

Resting her paws against the cool transparent surface, her periphery tilted, her sharp gaze raking across the school compound.

Everything seemed so tiny from up here.

"The window offers a nice view from up here, don't you think?" Spyro's voice came from behind her, and the black dragoness turned.

"Just what do you want to talk to me about?" the black dragoness did not waste words. She saw the purple dragon wince a little; she pursed her lips tightly, waiting for his response.

Hurt flashed across his face, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Cynder was careful to keep her expression one devoid of emotion, "Well, I'm here now, am I not?"

The purple dragon's eyes narrowed, "After I cornered you and forced you up here with me? Short of tying your limbs together and hauling you up here? Then yes."

Cynder did not reply. Her eyes were downcast. The purple dragon wondered what she was staring at.

Standing by the window, haloed by the golden rays of the setting sun outlining her frame, spilling past her to pool onto the ground like liquid gold, she was an angel. She was _his_angel.

She sighed, a ragged sound unwillingly torn from her throat, "Fine. Just say what you have to quickly will you? I still have my panel discussion research to do for Cyril's class tomorrow."

The purple stared at her incredulously. He did not understand. How could she act so nonchalant about this? "But, I don't get why…."

Cynder shot him a dark look, "What's there to understand?" Her emerald gaze burned into his scales, making him itch uncomfortably, "If you have nothing else to say, I'll take my leave first."

She tried to push past him, but he stepped in front of her, neatly blocking her route, "Are you angry with me?"

A curious expression flickered across her green eyes, but it was gone so fast that he wondered whether he had truly seen it, "What makes you think so?"

The purple rolled his eyes. He began to make a show of ticking it off his claws, "One, you avoid me like the plague."

Tick. "Two, you refuse to speak to me even when I initiate a conversation."

He wagged the third one in her face, "And now that we are here, all you wish to do is to leave." His eyes met hers, amethyst to cool green, a silent request clear in those purple depths, "If I said something to offend you, or did something wrong, I would rather you tell me so that I can apologise for it. Not have you stepping edgily around me like you would rather be anywhere else but here with me."

Her stubborn stance wilted slightly at his pointed accusation. She shrugged carelessly, "It's not anything you did, Spyro." _It__'__s__what__you__didn__'__t__do,_ she added silently to herself, but she was careful not to let those words cross her lips, _from__that__day__you__locked__me__out,__I__lost__you.__I__lost__myself.__You__won__'__t__have__me__either._

The bitterness in those words stung her.

"We're not supposed to be here, if you realise," Cynder continued coolly, "We should really leave… soon." She stared at him, waiting to see if he caught her meaning.

"And," she added on for good measure, the words rushing out from her lips so fast that she could hardly stop their rapid flow, "you should get back and start preparing. The Fair starts tonight, does it not?"

He blinked, once, twice. When he finally found his voice again, he spoke, "I hardly think that's necessary. I have no one to go with anyway."

Cynder was surprised at that. Spyro saw the way her eyes widened a little, before she started scraping the floor with a claw like an errant child caught doing something she should not be doing, "Oh?"

"It's not that I have no one I want to go with," the purple sounded almost melancholy, but his eyes never left her face, "I would appreciate it if she stopped avoiding me actually, so that I can tell her what I want to _when_ I want to instead of having to search the whole school to find her first. Oh, and I think there is something she actually wants me to say, but I can't tell her what she wants to hear until I know what it is!"

Cynder was startled by his sudden outburst, but she tried not to show it. Spyro was not prone to sudden fits of temper. But… was he talking about her?

"So I brought her up here, hoping that if we were alone, it might be easier for her to speak what's been on her mind," Spyro continued testily, "But now I can see that that's not true."

Cynder kept silent. Her head hurt. She did not ask for this. All she wanted to do was to throw herself onto her bed and sleep the rest of the day away.

The purple sighed then, a soft sound. Slowly, he moved aside, claws scraping concrete. Cynder stared at him. He dropped his gaze, "You… wanted to leave?"

It was awkward, the black dragoness realised, standing in that tiny space with nothing else to say. She had never been claustrophobic, but all of a sudden, she felt as though the walls were closing in on her. She wanted out.

Taking her first steps forward, she stopped. Turning back, she found the purple standing at the window where she had been standing earlier. He was taller than her, a little, not too much.

And he was staring out, though at what she did not know, "You aren't coming with me?"

Spyro did not reply immediately. But when he did, he was calm again, "Nope. I'll stay here a little while more. You should go first."

He did not look at her again. She turned and left without another word.

* * *

><p>"Smooth, Cynder," she grumbled, as she slammed her door shut behind her, "he practically asked you out, and what did you do? You did not say yes, oh no. You simply walked away!"<p>

But it was not like she had a choice. How could she say yes?

If she could kick herself, she would.

But what was done was done. There was nothing she could do to undo the damage. There was no one she could tell.

So she sought solace in the one thing she knew would always listen, never to comment.

That was what she liked about keeping a diary. There was no right or wrong, no need for explanation or deliberation. There was only black and white, of ink on paper.

There was no present, or future to think about. There were only memories, and the voices of the past, the regret, the lies, the promises made but never kept.

… _He took me up the Clocktower today._

_I had been surprised; the Clocktower was out of bounds for students, and he had always been one to abide by the rules. Have I perhaps misjudged him?_

_Did I, for everything else?_

The black dragoness wondered how she should continue. Her handwriting stood out starkly against the white of the page, words scrawled in black, reedy and scattered.

… _He mentioned something curious though… That he would have liked to attend the Fair with… me? _

_Did I imagine it?_

The young female bit her lip. Shaking her head, she slammed the book shut. "Stop imagining things," she scolded herself, "If it had been you he was referring to, he would have said it out loud."

_Would__he?_ A voice nagged at her from the back of her head. She dismissed it.

After all, she had other things to concentrate on.

_… Still… The view from up there had been nice…_

She slid the diary back onto its designated place on her bookshelf. Slowly, she allowed her claw to skim past the spines, her keen eyes scanning the titles printed in ink, until they picked out the one they had been looking for. She drew it out and cradled it to her chest, carrying it back to her bed to do some reading.

It was time to move on.

And as though in agreement, in a dark corner of the room something stirred, a whirl of powdered gold, the fluttering of a butterfly's wings.


	6. Chapter 5: Confrontation

**Author's Note: Okay typing this chapter has been a lot of fun for me. It seriously felt like going back to school to me! :D Yes, I realised that Singapore's school system is very different from that in Western countries, but I haven't experienced the latter before so I don't think I'll be familiar enough with it to write a story on it… I'll try to make it as convincing as possible, and it anything's too confusing feel free to ask questions! :D I'll answer them as best as I can. Oh yes, if you are wondering, my school really has a clocktower :D Yay! After being stuck at this chapter for so long I've finally gotten it up and running :D this is a milestone achievement, I tell you. And for some reason, the spacing has gone haywire... =.=**

_The King was an avid collector of magical artefacts, and it was something he enjoyed doing with his mate._

_After she died, he locked all of them up in a room, and threw the key away. Usage of magic was forbidden, labelled as lethal, and mages were captured and killed._

_Rules were rules, but to some, they were just meant to be broken._

_The crown princess knew that all too well. She also knew that her mother had left something behind for her, and her siblings._

_Now, all she had to do was to find the key, and find out what they were._

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 5: Confrontation<span>

Illaryn knew she was in big trouble.

"Adiliorus? He left," his classmate had kindly informed her, "Why are you looking for him anyway?"

"Do you know where he went?" the little white huffed, still worn out from running all over the school. The whole situation was almost hilarious, and Illaryn would have laughed, if not for two reasons. One, she was winded, and two, it had happened to _her _specifically, which significantly dampened her mood. She had no doubt that her classmates would laugh when she told them about it tomorrow.

_If _she told them about it tomorrow.

She could hardly believe that she had actually neglected to ask him for his class. How could such an obvious thing have slipped her mind?

"_Adiliorus is in the humanities talent class,"_ Ignitus had seemed almost chipper to oblige when she had finally found him and asked him the all-important question, "_Do you know where it is? I can always take you there_." She had politely declined. Illaryn supposed that she should be thankful. Ignitus was in the same class as her brother, which made things slightly less complicated. At least there was someone she could ask directions from.

"He didn't say," the dull green earth dragon shrugged, "then again, he never has much to say."

_Ancestors._ How could she have neglected to ask him for his class? How was she supposed to look for him in future if she did not even know where he was going to be?

Subsequently, this also led to her crashing around the undergrowth without the slightest idea of how to get to the glade where he had taken her once.

_This is the stupidest mistake you could ever have made, Illaryn,_ she seethed, swatting away branches and leaves which got in her way with a vengeance, _you didn't happen to pay attention to where you were supposed to go the last time, so you just got out here without a plan, without a map, without any inkling of how to go to where you are supposed to go and what? Hope to just walk in on him randomly? _

The gold must be fuming by now. Illaryn distinctly recalled the neatly folded letter he had left for her on her table, which she found when she went back to class after her break.

The message had jumped out at her. _Meet me where I took you before after school._ 'After school' had been an hour ago.

"You're late." All of a sudden, the little white heard a voice speak from behind her, and she jumped in surprise.

"Don't scare me like that!" Illaryn snapped irritably, whirling around to confront the dragon who had snuck up upon her.

Adiliorus seemed highly amused, "I'll take note of that in future. At least I found you. Were you lost?"

"Lost?" Illaryn flushed with indignation, "I wasn't _lost!_"

"Right," the gold dragon smirked, and Illaryn flushed harder, "Then you are here because…"

"I was trying to get to the glade!" Embarrassment flooded through her as Illaryn vehemently tried to defend herself.

Adiliorus raised an eye ridge at her, "Are you sure? But the glade is that way." He raised a paw and pointed a claw in the opposite direction.

Illaryn scowled.

The gold dragon struggled to keep a straight face. "You were sightseeing?" he offered kindly.

_Is that honestly the best excuse you can come up with? _Illaryn groaned inwardly, momentarily unwilling to think about the fact that he was willing to play along instead of laughing at her.

"Why yes, that I was," Illaryn smiled back at him sweetly, mentally cursing his name with every breath she took.

"Very well then," Adiliorus managed a tight smile, "You can return to that another day. Let's get a move on first, shall we?"

He spared her a brief glance before turning and proceeding to lead the way. Illaryn stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

This was hopeless.

The white dragoness bounded up and strode alongside him. She saw the glimmer of laughter in his eyes and scowled.

"You have something to say?" The gold did not turn to face her.

Illaryn had no qualms about glaring at him, "How did you know which class I was in?"

Adiliorus answered diplomatically, and Illaryn rolled her eyes, "Ignitus told me."

"Wait, what?" That was not the answer she was expecting, "And just how did Ignitus find out about that?"

"He snooped around, of course," Adiliorus volunteered the information freely, and Illaryn got the niggling suspicion that he felt satisfaction at ratting out on his brother, "He told me before I had even thought to ask him that question. Though I suppose I should have thought of asking you earlier." He sounded slightly apologetic, but Illaryn brushed it off. After all, she had forgotten as well.

"For a councillor, he sure has a lot of spare time on his paws," she grumbled.

Adiliorus only smiled in reply.

Soon enough, Illaryn noticed the undergrowth thinning as larger and larger open patches of grass tickled her paws. From there, it did not take them long to reach their destination.

Adiliorus sat down on his haunches, and draped his tail neatly around his paws, "Right. You can speak now."

"Fantastic," Illaryn rolled her eyes, "But shouldn't I be the one saying that?"

"What?" The gold fixed her with a half confused, half amused look, "But you're the one who asked me out here because you needed to talk to me."

"Ancestors? No," the white dragoness raised an eye ridge at him, "I received your note, which is why I'm even here."

Both of them paused for measure, and Adiliorus sighed.

"I bet I know who did this," he said.

"So do I," Illaryn sighed empathetically, "No wonder he had seemed so eager to tell me where your class was. He had even offered to be my guide."

Adiliorus laughed. Illaryn was surprised. She had never seen Adiliorus laugh so freely before.

"I think he's going to be in whole lot of trouble when I get to him," Illaryn smirked, and Adiliorus laughed again. "I think so too," he agreed, "Revenge is the best medicine for many things, though some would say we should stave off self-medication. We should confront him."

"Confront Ignitus?" Illaryn mulled over this for a moment, before the edges of her mouth curled upwards to give a quirky grin, "Why yes, I do think a confrontation is in order."

* * *

><p>"What is that?" Someone spoke from behind her, and Illaryn started.<p>

"Oh, nothing," the white dragoness waved a paw dismissively at the piece of paper she had been holding and staring at until her tablemate had crept up from behind her, "A senior's schedule. Humanities talent class." She sighed, "This thing has certainly strengthened my conviction to opt out for that class next year."

"Hmm, let me see that," Lyra's eyes sparkled with amusement and curiosity, "I've been thinking about opting for that next year."

One quick scan at the paper's contents wiped away the sparkles from her eyes, and she blanched, "Ancestors. Advanced Literature and Advanced Geography or Advanced History are _compulsory? _On top of all the other subjects we are supposed to take? _Are they mad?_ I can hardly handle Language Arts by itself!_"_

"Hence the name Humanities talent, my dear tablemate," Illaryn smiled sweetly at her, "So have your opinions regarding next year's possible subject combinations changed?"

"Yes!" her tablemate looked visibly traumatised, "I think I'm better off opting for the math and science talent class. I would rather handle triple sciences, even if I don't really enjoy Biology, thank you very much."

"You, and half of the level," Illaryn laughed, "I heard tell that out of fourteen classes in total next year, seven would be triple science classes. Apparently, supply has never been able to meet demand all those years past, and judging by your reaction, things don't look like they are going to change anytime soon."

"Really?" a voice came from the side, and Illaryn watched as their class monitress crossed over to their table, "Do you mind if I join you? I've been rather curious about subject combinations next year. The teachers are going to tell us more about our options later on, but I'd rather know now."

"To be honest, subject combinations next year aren't that scary," Illaryn acquiesced, trying to remember what Adiliorus had told her the day before, "Much of everything remains the same. Chemistry, Language Arts, Integrated Humanities, and Integrated Maths are all compulsory subjects. The only subjects you are allowed to play around with are the other two sciences, and the advanced humanities. Oh, and you can opt for a second language if you're keen. Cheetah or mole."

"Integrated Humanities?" Lyra groaned, "Is that what I think it is?"

"They're not terribly creative with names," Illaryn nodded, "But yeah, apparently since they can't decide which of the humanities to make compulsory, they went ahead and merged both together to give a combined subject."

Both Lyra and their class monitress groaned, and Illaryn grinned.

"It's not as bad as it sounds though," Illaryn tried to pacify them, "My senior told me it's a lot of work to begin with, but it gets better after you become accustomed to the workload."

"Of course it's supposed to be like that," Lyra grumbled, "I'd be really worried if we don't. But getting used to it, I can imagine that would be a problem."

Even Illaryn could not dispute with that.

"Fine," their class monitress sighed, "That certainly whetted any appetite I had to know more. At least we have nine more months before we have to worry about subject combinations."

"Agreed," Illaryn and Lyra nodded, and the white dragoness slipped Adiliorus's timetable under her table, so that she could refer to it again later on.

"Right, now that the both of you are here and seem to have some time on your paws," the monitress announced grandly, "You can help me with my Physics homework! I have a few questions I need to ask someone. Well, more than a few actually… I swear, I'm going to drop this subject the first chance I get."

"You'll get your chance next year," Illaryn hoped that came off as comforting, "Besides Humanities talent, you can always opt for the Advanced Literature class, or to take double sciences with one of the other humanities."

"I suppose," the monitress grunted, and Illaryn had to agree, "Though to be honest, none of them sound really inviting right now."

They had time now, Illaryn knew, but eventually they would have to make a choice.

Why did it have to be so depressing then?

* * *

><p>"Oh, there you are Ignitus. Iueyon's sister is in our class looking for you. Said she had to talk to you and that it's important," his classmate looked surprised, and intrigued, "Since when did the both of you get together?"<p>

"What? We didn't," Ignitus retaliated indignantly, "I know her, but we're not close. There's nothing between the both of us."

"So you say," his classmate murmured as the red dragon rolled his eyes, "Run along anyway. A gentleman should not keep a lady waiting, and though you are no gentleman, there is no reason to treat her as anything less than a lady, yes?"

"No," Ignitus snapped, "What are you getting at?"

"Oh, nothing," Ignitus did not like the falsely innocent smile his classmate flashed at him, "Just saying that you should run along now." He pulled a face, "Besides, I can't stay here for too long. I've an errand to run."

Ignitus winced, "An errand? Iueyon?"

"Who else?" his classmate rolled his eyes, "Oh well. At least he's far more civil now, since our form teacher nominated him for Council. I still don't understand her decision, seeing as how there are many other far more eligible candidates around, but since it also made life easier for a lot of us, I'm not complaining. See you later?"

"Of course," Ignitus mused, "We _are_ in the same class."

And so the red dragon was left standing alone at the tables just outside his classroom, wondering just what Illaryn had in store for him. He knew deep in his bones that it would be nothing good, especially after the prank he had pulled on her yesterday.

"Only one way to find out," he muttered to himself. Steeling his nerves, he entered the classroom through the back door.

"Ignitus," Illaryn was standing in front of his table, and she greeted him formally. Ignitus was taken aback by her courtesy, "Senior. Can we talk?"

"Do we have to?" Ignitus gulped at the murderous glint in her eyes, even as her entire face was taken up by an unnervingly cheerful smile. She certainly had enough acting potential to join Theatre, Ancestors be blamed.

"Yes, we do," Illaryn's tone was cheerful, but there was also an edge to it which brooked no argument.

"Fine," Ignitus grumbled. _Ancestors, please let me live through this._

"What was this all about?" the white dragoness calmly placed something on his table in front of him, and Ignitus groaned inwardly.

It was the message he had left for her. Her part had been easier to settle, seeing as how he had thought it rather unlikely that she knew what Adiliorus's pawwriting was like. But Adiliorus would know his pawwriting, so that second message he had planted had taken a bit more work. Ignitus remembered how he had taken a look at the pawwritten assignments on Illaryn's table, and forged her pawwriting on the message he wrote for Adiliorus. And apparently, his prank had worked out, seeing as how Illaryn was now standing in his classroom, demanding an explanation which he did not have.

He scrambled to gather his wits about him. He would need them now.

"Oh come on, Illaryn," Ignitus tried to sound meek, "It was only meant as a joke. There was no real harm done."

"Right," she huffed, "you do realise that the Season Fair is drawing closer with each passing day and as a performing artist, time is the one commodity I'm rather short of now?"

_Oh yeah. _Even though it had been decided that this spring Theatre would be in charge of the main student performances for the Season Fair, there were only so many shows they could put up before the audience got bored. Choir and Traditional Dance had been commissioned to put up short performances of their own too. And Ateiyl was a hard worker, constantly striving for all the traditional dancers to achieve top form. No doubt Co-Curricular Activity sessions had been lengthened significantly, and increased to take up almost every day in the week. It did not exactly take a genius to join the dots.

"You owe me three hours," Illaryn hissed at him, taking one threatening step in front, only to rear up and slam her paws onto his table. Ignitus winced. "Three hours, in which I could have finished my Biology homework, touched up on my History presentation, researched for my panel discussion, and catch up on my sleep," the white dragoness narrowed her eyes at him, "Anything else you have to say for yourself?"

"No, and I'm sorry. Just take it that I owe you for this one. But," he paused, and suddenly, his eyes sharpened in realisation, "Three hours? Just what did the both of you do yesterday that took so long?"

Illaryn's eyes widened slightly, and Ignitus knew that he had turned the tables on her.

He could not help it; he laughed, "Aha! Ancestors! So what did the both of you do? Did you talk? What did you talk about? How in the world did the both of you find so many things in common to talk about anyway?"

"You wish," Illaryn snapped, but she knew she had lost, "Nothing of the sort happened."

"I was right!" Ignitus's voice was embarrassingly loud, and Illaryn flushed indignantly as some of his other classmates turned their attention to them curiously, "I knew it! I demand full details!"

"Alright, this I have got to see," Illaryn turned around to see another dragon enter the classroom and seat himself beside Ignitus, "She's still here? Just what were the both of you talking about? I rarely see you so excited."

"This doesn't concern you. Get back to your seat," Illaryn tried to sound menacing, but it came out as an accusation. She groaned inwardly. How could Ignitus have turned the whole situation against her so quickly?

The newcomer raised an eyeridge at her, "Fiery one, aren't you? Alright." Crossing behind Ignitus, he took the seat on the red dragon's right side, "Right. Fire away."

Ignitus could not stop laughing, and Illaryn stammered, "You sit here?"

"You think?" the other eyeridge went up as well, "You can always ask my tablemate over here, once he calms down enough to be able to speak without laughing like a maniac."

"Hey," Ignitus tried for a straight face, but failed miserably and burst into laughter again, "Don't accuse me of being crazy. You're not much better yourself."

"Right," his tablemate rolled his eyes. "Forgive him," he turned to address Illaryn, and the white dragoness blushed again, "He has never been the gentlemanly sort. I apologise for any inappropriate comment he may have made to offend you."

"I don't need you to defend me," Ignitus rolled his eyes, "Speak for yourself. You're more theatrical than gentle, Corlitrius."

"Right, and you think I'm going to believe that, seeing as how it came from you?" his tablemate exclaimed.

"Please, the both of you," Illaryn interrupted, glaring at them, "Act your age."

The bell rang, once, twice, three times, and both males burst into laughter again. "Oops," Ignitus grinned devilishly at Illaryn, "Break has ended. I believe your classroom would be quite a distance away from here. Run along now."

The white dragoness glared at him, but there was nothing more she could do, and she knew he was right.

"Keep your counsel, and watch your words," she snapped, and hurried out of his classroom.

"Did you just steal my line?" Corlitrius turned to face Ignitus on his left, sounding exaggeratedly aggrieved, "_Run along now_? Really? Did you have to do that?"

Ignitus burst into laughter again, as all his other classmates went back to their seats. His other tablemate sat himself down on his left. "What was going on just now? Was that Iueyon's sister?" the latter asked, confused, "Must have been some conversation you had."

"I second that," Corlitrius agreed, "Do tell."

"No," Ignitus sobered enough to say, "She'll have my hide if she found out."

The battle had been won with a single cleverly placed comment. It was luck this time, Ignitus knew, but he would never underestimate the power of words again.

* * *

><p>Adiliorus held the bell-pull, made sure that he had thrown up his shield properly around him, and tugged on it hard, once, twice, three times. He felt tremors running through the ground at his feet, and knew that the bell had been sounded. Satisfied, he waited for the tremors to fade, before he let down the shield around him and leapt down from the raised platform. As a member of the Audio-Visual Club, Adiliorus's duty was to ring the bell before break and after, while the other members would take turns ringing it in between classes to signal the passing of time and to warn students and staff alike that they had to go for their next lesson if that was not to be held in class, or to prepare for it if it was. The Club president was in charge of the final bell at sunset, to warn all the students that lessons and Co-Curricular Activities were over, and that it was time to go home so that the moles could make final preparations before they locked up the school for the night.<p>

It was a trick their teacher-in-charge had taught them; the wind dragons could naturally use their element to dull the deafening sound before it reached their sensitive ears; electrical and fire dragons were taught how to shield themselves, and adjust the shield such that it could block out sound. Typically, ice and earth dragons who did not have shields which they could throw up as protection were put in charge of the sound and light systems in the school, and during school performances they were the ones who worked with the stage manager and directors to make sure that all the audio-visual effects on stage ran smoothly.

The clocktower which Adiliorus now found himself in boasted of a long history. It was the most prominent feature of their school, and it opened up five stories above ground to open space, the bell, and pillars rising up on all sides to support the dome which sloped about two dragons' heights above his head. He heard that one of Warfang's elite schools, newly renovated and run by the guardians themselves, had taken note of this particular design and incorporated it into their renovation floor plans when they were being finalised. But the bell they had installed was purely for ornamental purposes. Instead, period changes between lessons and breaks were indicated via an electronic bell system, designed and powered by electricity. Adiliorus admitted that that would indeed be more convenient, but there was something about ringing the bell that he liked, and besides, it was tradition.

The gold dragon dived back down into the main building, and pulling the lever set onto the wall, he switched off all the lights around him, and closed the trapdoor leading to the top. Checking all around him to make sure that everything was in place, he made ready to leave.

Suddenly, he heard a slow scraping sound coming from the front, where the door was. He froze in his tracks. Was there someone else in here? He had locked the door behind him, had he not?

At any rate, the Club members were the only ones authorised to enter the clocktower besides the moles who had to do maintenance work occasionally. Even the teachers had to ask for special permission to enter. It _was_ dangerous, for those who did make it up to the open platform. The balustrade ringing the sides was not very tall, and although all the students and teachers could fly, no one wanted to take chances. Besides, there was a lot of expensive equipment stashed in the main building below the open platform. If any of them were damaged, it would take a lot of time and effort to repair, and a lot of gems to replace in the worst case scenario. Not to mention that communications across the school would be affected, which would really be a pain. What was worse was that the Club would be held responsible inevitably, for negligence in keeping trespassers out, and Adiliorus did not look forward to the talking-to their teacher-in-change was sure to give them if that ever happened.

Anyone caught trespassing would be in such big trouble if he caught them.

The gold dragon crept soundlessly to the main chamber in front, ready to catch trespassers in the act. He stopped just short of rounding the bend, which would bring him into full view of anyone in front. _Last chance,_ he found himself thinking, _if you don't get out now, I _will_ catch you, I promise._

But there was only silence now, and as far as Adiliorus could tell, he was alone.

Had he imagined hearing anything?

Slowly, he turned, and paced into the main chamber. Everything looked to be untouched, and in their own positions.

But the door was ajar, and light spilled into the dark room from outside. His blood chilled.

"Ancestors," he murmured quietly, but he could not help the warm relief which washed over him in that instant. That scraping sound he heard had to be the door swinging open. The lock had been faulty for some time now, and the gold dragon made a mental note to himself to speak to his teacher-in-charge about it during the next Club meeting. This was cutting things a bit too close for his liking.

_A good thing I got here when I did,_ the gold dragon found himself thinking grimly, as he shot one last look around the room to assure himself that everything was alright, before he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

Like the rest of the classroom and office doors in the school, this door operated on an automatic locking system. When he closed it behind him from the outside, he waited to hear the lock within engage with a soft click, before he left hurriedly for his class. He was going to be dreadfully late.

Which was also why he did not realise from the start that he had forgotten to take his copy of the key with him, or that it had mysteriously vanished from where he had left it on the main control panel.


End file.
